‘ALL RIGHT, LOVE? You’re looking a bit down.’ Reg, the greengrocer, flung the bag over to twist the corners.
The effect of a cheering lunch with Vivian obviously hadn’t worked for long if Reg noticed she was feeling depressed. ‘It’s this building application. Have you seen it? They’re going to put houses on the water meadows – Paradise Fields. We all thought the hospice owned the land. It doesn’t.’
Reg shook his head. ‘It’s bad. How will the hospice manage without the money it raises from the do’s? Not to mention the rent the stallholders pay.’
‘Don’t mention that! If the Hunstantons find out they may demand back payment! I was hoping, with the market going official, and getting much bigger, that we’d get loads more!’
‘You may be able to move the market to another site,’ Reg suggested.
‘Yes, I’m going to look into that. As long as we don’t have to pay the council – or at least, not much – the market should survive. But I – somehow – have to arrange for the hospice still to benefit from it! We need the money so badly. And our jamborees! How are we going to have them without a site with river frontage for the steam boats? I’m thinking of organising a campaign to stop the building, until someone finds a rare newt or something.’
‘Are there any rare newts or anything?’
‘I have no idea, but there’d better be. I can’t think what else will work.’
‘And even that might not do the trick nowadays.’ Reg rearranged a pyramid of beetroot. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you go along to the chairman of the football team? He might help you.’
‘Why would he?’
‘Because they use the other bit of land, across the road. Their junior teams practise there, to save the pitch getting all muddied up.’
‘I don’t know if I knew that.’ Nel thought for a moment. ‘I suppose it’s because football is a winter thing, and we use the meadows more in the summer.’
‘Your lads not play football then?’
‘No. They had no ball control, according to their PE teacher. You don’t know who the chairman of the team is, do you?’
“Fraid not. Not since old Bill Chapman died. They’ve got a new one now. But the best place to find him would be at a match.’
‘I’ve never been to a proper football match, with grown-ups in it.’
‘Time to start. There’s one on Wednesday. You go along to that, and then ask to have the chairman pointed out to you. He’ll be delighted to see you.’
Reg, Nel knew, had a soft spot for her, and a very kind heart, in spite of a somewhat brusque exterior. She doubted if the chairman of Meadow Green Rovers would be that thrilled to see her, but he might be glad of support if he knew and cared about his junior teams’ practice ground being built on. On the other hand, perhaps they’d already got somewhere else to practise, so he wouldn’t give a damn.
‘Who can I go with? I don’t want to go to a football match on my own. That would be just too sad.’
‘What about those strapping sons of yours?’
‘As I said, not into football. They would come with me if I asked them, but I’d have to get them to come down from university, and I’d rather find someone who actually wanted to go.’
‘No use looking at me, love. I’m not into football either.’
Nel continued her shopping, eyeing up all the friends that she met for potential footy-loving characteristics. Eventually, in despair, she told of her dilemma to a friend she didn’t see that often. Sheila was an extremely positive person and Nel made a note to get her involved in the campaign. She was surprisingly helpful about the football match too.
‘Oh, Suzy’ll go with you. She’s a big fan of Meadow Green.’
‘Would she mind? I haven’t seen Suzy since she was little, and she probably wouldn’t want me with her at a football match.’
‘She wouldn’t mind at all. She’d be delighted. I’ll ask her when I get home.’
‘So how are her A levels going, then?’
‘She’s working extremely hard, but you can never tell, can you?’
Nel shook her head. She wasn’t sure that Fleur was working at all, let alone extremely hard. All her enquiries were answered by soothing noises and, ‘Don’t worry, Mum.’
‘I’ll get Suzy to give you a ring later.’
‘That would be so kind, as long as you’re sure she wouldn’t mind.’
Suzy, on the phone later, assured Nel that she’d be delighted to take her along. ‘Wrap up really warm, and wear comfortable shoes, or boots: your feet get freezing. I’ll get a lift to yours.’
On Wednesday, although Nel had not gone there to enjoy herself, she couldn’t help picking up on the buzz of excitement of being in a crowd of people all on the same mission: going to ‘the match’. It was an evening match and the darkness added to the feeling of expectation that Nel found developing. Suzy’s infectious enthusiasm helped. Although they were the same age, Suzy, Nel discovered, was a very different child to Fleur. Suzy was interested in politics, world poverty and the ozone layer. Fleur was interested in her friends, her social skills and clothes. Having lots in common with them both, Nel found them equally delightful.
Once at the ground, Nel parked the car where Suzy suggested. ‘Dad always parks here because you can always get out easily. We need a car park, really, but then we need a lot of other things, too.’
Nel was surprised at how many people were thronging to the match. ‘Is it always this busy?’
‘It’s an important match. If we win this, we’re up for promotion, which is why we need a revamp. But don’t worry, it’s a very friendly crowd, if we stay away from the opposition.’
‘Thanks. I’m not that keen on crowds.’
Suzy wrapped a scarf of the appropriate colours round Nel’s neck. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.’
‘I’m a season-ticket holder, so I go in here,’ explained Suzy, who was proving the perfect companion. ‘You go through that turnstile. We can buy chocolate now, or wait until half-time and buy pies,’ she went on. ‘Only please don’t have a pasty as we always lose if any of us buys a pasty.’
‘It’s all right, I’ve already eaten. There are about a thousand calories in a pie.’
‘I know. That’s what makes them so delicious, but I’ve eaten too. I’m afraid the best place to stand is all the way over there.’
‘You don’t happen to know who the chairman is, do you? You seem to know everything else.’
Suzy laughed. ‘’Fraid not. He’s new and doesn’t get to every match. But I’ll ask around. Hey, Rob? You don’t know if the chairman’s here tonight, do you? And if he is, which one is he?’
‘Yeah, I think he’s here. And I think that’s him. Do you see? He’s got his back to us, talking to that man in the anorak?’
Neither Suzy nor Nel could see, but knowing he was present was a start. Although Nel was starting to enjoy herself in a way she hadn’t thought she would, she didn’t want to have wasted an evening waiting for someone who wasn’t there.
Football banter went back and forth between the group of regulars as they waited for the kick-off. Nel couldn’t understand much of it, except the bits when they talked about the dreadful condition of the buildings.
‘The showers are so bad, the players warm up running up and down trying to catch the drips,’ said one.
‘Yeah, and the water that does come out is full of rust. Our Kevin played up here as a junior once. Don’t think anything’s changed since.’
‘Hey, they’re off!’
With Suzy at her side explaining things, Nel found herself getting caught up in the match. She got excited when a goal was scored, and although she didn’t join in with the chants (everyone seemed to know what they were, even before anyone started), she found the whole experience extremely enjoyable.
It wasn’t, she explained at half-time as she ate a thousand-calorie meat pie with Suzy, that she wanted to become a regular, ‘but I can see how people get bound up in it. I’m just sorry my boys didn’t get interested. I wonder if I didn’t encourage them enough.’
‘My brother’s not into football and Dad is, so I don’t suppose it’s your fault,’ said Suzy. ‘Have a chip?’
‘You realise I’ve just blown an entire week’s dieting just with the pie. The chip will turn me into Colonel Blimp by next Monday.’
‘Why Monday?’
‘When I get weighed.’
‘I really don’t think dieting’s good for you, you know.’
‘It’s funny, but it’s only people who don’t need to who say that.’
Nel’s feet were very cold by the time Meadow Green Rovers had won their match. ‘It means they’re up for promotion,’ reiterated Suzy, still enthusiastic, but losing hope that one day Nel would understand the offside rule.
‘That’s good. It’ll give me something to talk about when I go and speak to the chairman. Now, can I just march up to him and say hello, or is there an etiquette I should know about?’
‘No idea. I expect you can just go up to him. He’s not royalty, after all.’
‘Are you going to come with me? Or do you want to meet up with your friends?’
‘I’ll meet you later. Have you got your phone on you?’ Nel nodded. ‘Send me a text when you’re ready.’
‘I don’t do texting. I’m over thirty.’
‘Mum does! And she’s well over thirty!’
‘So am I actually. I’m going now. See you soon.’
Nel was considered by all who knew her to be friendly and outgoing. Only she knew that inside she was extremely shy. Now, for instance, although she was holding her head up and had a smile at the ready, inside she was convinced that the chairman wouldn’t want to talk to her, and she’d have to fight her way back through the crowd rejected.
She got herself near the middle of the throng before asking someone if they’d mind pointing out the chairman to her. The someone obliged, and Nel plotted a course in the direction of the navy blue overcoat indicated.
She cleared her throat. ‘Excuse me! Oh! It’s you.’
Jake Demerand was the last person she wanted to see.
‘I was looking for the new chairman. I was told it was you. Can you point him out to me, please?’
‘I’m afraid it is me.’
‘What?’
‘I am the new chairman of the football team.’
Nel’s feet hurt. She was cold, and her pie was beginning to give her indigestion. ‘Oh God! This is so awful!’
‘Why? You weren’t hoping for the position yourself, were you?’
‘Of course not! It’s just I was going to ask the chairman of the team for some support for my campaign.’
‘What campaign?’
‘Derr!’ Nel heard herself sound just like Fleur but didn’t care. ‘The campaign I’m going to organise to stop your millionaire clients from building on the water meadows!’
‘If my clients were millionaires they wouldn’t need to build on them.’
‘They don’t need to build on them anyway, it’s just that that woman wants to turn the whole place into something likely to get her in the house magazines. All Hunstanton Manor needs is a few new tiles on the roof, and it would be fine! People’s standards are just too high!’
He laughed, and she realised she was being ridiculous. It was the shock of meeting Jake Demerand when she was expecting a friendly, grizzled man in a sheepskin coat who would pat her on the shoulder and say, ‘You leave it with me, love. We’ll stop them toffs puttin’ ‘arses on them water meadows.’ Perhaps her EastEnders addiction was dangerous, after all.
‘Listen, Mrs Innes – Nel – why don’t we carry on this conversation over a drink?’
In any other circumstances in the world, Nel would have said yes, Simon or no Simon. She took a breath. ‘Because not only do you talk in clichés, Mr Lawyer Demerand, but there isn’t a spoon long enough in the world.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You’ve heard the expression, I’m sure. “If you sup with the devil, use a long spoon.”’
There was a short silence. ‘I’m sorry you think of me as the devil, Mrs Innes. Because I assure you I don’t think of you in those terms at all.’
‘Oh, don’t you? Well, you will. When I get my campaign up and running, you’re going to be sticking pins in wax models of me.’
‘Really?’ Irritatingly, a smile flickered across his face.
‘Oh yes. You’ll find I’m a force to be reckoned with. You’d better warn your clients to scale down their plans, because that land is not going to be built on while I live and breathe.’
‘Well, I do hope you continue to live and breathe but I’m afraid you’re wrong about the building. It’s going to happen. There are some starter homes planned and the council are going to be delighted.’
‘God! I believe you want the water meadows lost for ever! Did you know that the junior football teams practise on them?’
‘No, as it happened, I didn’t. But I do now.’
‘And doesn’t that affect how you think about things? Poor little boys, freezing cold, in shorts, with nowhere to practise.’ Too late she realised she probably shouldn’t have said those negative-sounding things.
‘Well, of course it’s a shame we don’t have a nice warm indoor stadium for them.’
‘You weren’t planning to build one, were you?’
‘No. But it explains why you can’t get me excited about that extremely damp bit of ground you’ve just described.’
‘How do you know it’s damp?’ Nel replied after a moment’s thought.
‘Because I help train the junior team.’
‘Oh.’ Deflated, Nel paused. But she soon rallied. ‘Well, you can’t have done it for long. You’re new to the area.’
‘Not that new. It’s just that I’ve only recently come to your attention.’
‘You haven’t “come to my attention”! I would pay you no attention whatever if I hadn’t thought you – or rather the chairman of the team – would support my campaign!’
‘No? I saw you watching me play squash, you know.’
‘What?’
‘I saw you watching me and my friend play squash. What is it that takes you to the leisure centre on Monday nights?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she lied, knowing only too well.
‘Oh yes, you do. You didn’t have a sports bag with you, so what were you doing?’
‘I’m not going to tell you! It’s none of your business.’
‘It must be Weight Watchers. I don’t know why you bother. You’ve got a lovely figure.’
‘Oh f—’ Nel bit down hard on her lower lip as she realised what she had been about to say.
‘Don’t apologise. I expect I deserved it.’
‘I wasn’t going to apologise. And you certainly deserved it.’
‘It’s just you’re not in the usual run of women, you know.’
‘No woman is “just in the usual run of women”, that’s a terrible thing to say,’ Nel retorted indignantly.
‘You do seem to make me say terrible things. And I obviously have the same effect on you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You were going to tell me to – er – how shall I put it?’
‘Don’t tempt me to help you out! See you in court!’
As Nel made her way back through the now thinning crowds to Suzy she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. However hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Jake Demerand was not only the most attractive man she had met in years, he was one of the most attractive men she had met ever. And the fact that there was obviously some sort of spark between them was not helping. He was the enemy. She held him responsible for the building plans even more than she did his clients. He probably gave them the idea.
‘I’d better go,’ said Nel when Vivian had been given a quip by quip account of her meeting the other evening with the chairman of the football team, aka Jake Demerand, over a hurried drink. ‘It’s the dreaded WW tonight, and I haven’t been since before Christmas. I’ve probably put on a stone.’
Vivian yawned. ‘You’d have noticed your clothes getting tight if you had.’
‘I think they’ve just stretched. I’ll give you a ring if anything of interest crops up.’
‘Anything of interest,’ said Vivian. ‘Not just anything to do with the hospice or the farmers’ market.’
‘They are closely linked, you know. The farmers’ market is a nice little earner for the hospice.’
‘Oh, go away and torture yourself!’
Thus, late, aware that the white wine she’d drunk might smell on her breath, and not wearing suitable light clothes, Nel fell into Weight Watchers just before the talk was due to start.
Getting out her wallet, she searched for her card, finally finding it buried beneath all the other stuff in her handbag. She handed over a note, then, carrying everything in one hand, she pulled off her boots with the other and went to the scales, where the leader was waiting. Then, throwing it all onto the floor, she said, ‘I’m terribly sorry, I just got all behind. Well, I’ve always been that, really . . .’ As usual at this nail-biting moment, Nel made pathetic jokes, as if low humour could somehow stave off the ghastly truth. ‘I haven’t been since before Christmas, but, then, you know that.’
‘Never mind, you’re here now,’ said the young and lovely girl, who, rumour had it, had produced three children without adding a single pound to her svelte hips. ‘How did you cope with the festivities?’
‘Well, to be honest, I didn’t think about dieting. I just ate whatever I wanted.’
She stood on the scales, holding her stomach in and not breathing, in an attempt to make herself lighter.
‘Well! That must be a first! You’ve lost two pounds! Do you know what you did?’
Nel shrugged, delighted but mystified. ‘Just rushed around a lot, I expect.’
‘Exercise.’ The group leader handed Nel back her card. ‘I’m always telling my ladies to get out there and exercise!’
Nel smiled, taking the booklet which followed her card and picking up her boots. Would watching a football match count as exercise, she wondered? Or did you actually have to play it?
Not wanting to hold up proceedings, Nel bought several boxes of Weight Watchers chocolate bars and piled them up under her chin, anxious to escape before the group leader made her feel obliged to stay for the talk. It wasn’t that she didn’t know it helped to stay, she did, but she just didn’t have time. So she staggered out of the door under the boxes of chewy bars, holding her boots, aware she was red in the face.
What had she done that was different? she wondered. She’d eaten out so much over the holidays. Perhaps it was because if she ate out she always had salad, and if she stayed in she often had pasta. Maybe she should write a diet book called Eat Out Every Night – it could be a companion volume to Viv’s Fit for an Affaire.
Nel stopped dead. She couldn’t believe her eyes. As if by some sinister alchemy she had summoned up the very man who had made her think she wanted an affaire. She was so shocked, she dropped all her boxes and her boots.
Jake didn’t look shocked, he was frankly laughing, his face alive with merriment. Devil or not, his laugh was too infectious not to respond to. She’d been found out, and Nel was always ready to laugh at herself. ‘I am so busted!’ she said. She picked up a boot and pulled it on.
He was in his squash kit: black shorts, white shirt, and a fetching gleam of moisture. As he knelt to pick up her boxes, she noticed how enormous his feet were in his squash shoes. What was it they said about men with big feet? She suppressed the thought.
‘You are indeed busted!’ He straightened up, handed her the chocolate bars and looked down into her eyes. ‘I’m sure you don’t need to come to Weight Watchers, but I’m quite pleased you did. Would you like to come for a drink? Or am I still the enemy?’
In some ways, he was even more of the enemy than ever, because he was flirting irresistibly, and making her do it back. ‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
If only he wouldn’t look at her like that! He was doing it on purpose, to torment her! She knew he wasn’t interested in her, so why was he being like this? Well, she wasn’t going to give in. He could practise his charm on Kerry Anne, she’d be much more receptive.
‘I’ve got to get back.’
‘Why?’
She took a deep breath. ‘There’s a television programme I promised to record for Fleur, and I can only do it if I’m there when the programme’s on.’
He nodded. ‘That’s a real shame. Next week, perhaps?’
She definitely couldn’t handle this. He was the opposition. She couldn’t go out with him: she mustn’t even see him if he was going to have this effect on her. Nel decided that she was never going to that Weight Watchers again. She’d find another class somehow – or give up.
‘I don’t think so.’ She wedged her boxes more firmly under her chin. ‘Now I really must go, or I’ll miss the beginning of the programme.’
It was Saturday morning, Nel was in the chemist, studying the buy-two-get-one-free offers, trying to decide whether it was really good value to buy six months’ supply of toothpaste in one hit, when she saw the only person in the world she loathed.
Vivian always told Nel that she was very dull when it came to disliking people. People Nel declared she couldn’t stand would, after Nel had got to know them a little better, become, ‘She’s all right when you get to know her. She’s just not a very good communicator.’
This time, Nel determined, observing Kerry Anne Hunstanton inspecting body scrubs, she was going to keep right on hating her, and not find out about her difficult childhood, her alcoholic father, and end up either feeling sorry for her, or worse, liking her. She glanced at her; why did she marry Pierce? For his money? For his crumbling stately home?
Suppressing her sudden curiosity Nel scooped three giant tubes into her basket and moved on to the section euphemistically referred to as ‘feminine hygiene’. Here the special offers were very bulky and it was while she was trying to apply logic to the packing of them that she looked up and saw Kerry Anne right in front of her.
‘Oh, hello.’ Maybe, she suddenly realised, if I took the trouble to get to know this girl, I wouldn’t come to like her, but I might be able to find out what’s going on. It was too much to hope that Kerry Anne’d be able to stop the building, but Nel smiled anyway.
‘Hi! Nel, isn’t it? I wonder if you can help me. I can’t seem to find any decent beauty products in this place. What I really want is . . .’ She named a brand Nel had barely heard of, and would certainly not be available in a small branch of a chemist in a small town.
‘I’m afraid you’d have to go to Cheltenham for something like that.’
Kerry Anne shook her head impatiently. ‘I was there yesterday. Nothing. I tried every shop, and none of them had anything I would care to put on my face.’
‘Well, as you see, this is a small branch—’
‘So where do you go for moisturisers and stuff like that? London? You have lovely skin.’
This last was clearly not meant as a compliment, more a statement of fact, but Nel was still flattered. She also just might have the key to getting on Kerry Anne’s good side. It would be a shame to waste it.
‘I buy all that type of thing from someone who makes their own products. She sells them at the market,’ she added. She was tempted to say that unless Kerry Anne got her husband to withdraw all plans to build on the water meadows, and go on allowing the market to be in their backyard, she wouldn’t tell her where she could buy these products anywhere else.
‘Makes all their own products?’ repeated Kerry Anne. ‘How bizarre! I’m really interested in cosmetics. I mean, it’s so important not to put crap on your skin.’
‘Absolutely,’ murmured Nel.
‘But it seems weird to make your own.’
‘Not really. After all, all these companies’ – she gestured to the counter – ‘make all their own products. My friend just does it in her home instead of in a vast factory. She uses natural, pure ingredients, combines them, and then sells what she makes in blue glass jars.’
‘And are they any good?’
‘Oh yes. Her anti-wrinkle serum is really excellent. Not that you need to worry about wrinkles – yet.’
Kerry Anne shuddered, even at the word. ‘Well, where can I buy these things? If they really are so good?’
Nel thought fast. Kerry Anne was rich, and obviously a woman prepared to spend a lot of her money on keeping herself beautiful. If Nel took her to where Sacha made her products, Kerry Anne would spend a fortune. Sacha would be thrilled to have such a big-spending customer and visiting her might soften up Kerry Anne beautifully – and not just on the outside. Perhaps it would change her mind about building on the fields.
‘Well,’ Nel began. ‘You could just wait for the next market. Or go to Bath. I think Sacha sells her stuff there . . .’ She paused enticingly.
‘Or what?’ To Nel’s satisfaction, Kerry Anne immediately picked up the implication of an alternative.
‘Or you can go to her outlet and buy them direct.’ Nel was not surprised to see Kerry Anne’s eyes widen in interest. Almost all women liked bargains, and the word ‘outlet’ did sort of imply cheapness. Nel would of course warn Sacha in advance, and make sure she charged Kerry Anne double what everyone else paid.
‘Could you tell me where to go?’
‘I could, but I’m too well brought up,’ Nel mumbled and then went on, louder, ‘It would be better if I went with you. It’s rather difficult to find. Or you could wait for the next market. It’s due in three weeks.’ The words ‘deferred gratification’ came into Nel’s head, and she realised this concept would be totally foreign to a woman like Kerry Anne.
‘I don’t think Pierce wants it to happen,’ said Kerry Anne. ‘We think it would be better if people got used to the idea that the fields are no longer available to them.’
‘In which case,’ said Nel, sweetly, ‘I can’t really take you to my friend. You couldn’t expect her to welcome you when you’re planning to cut off her main customer base.’
Kerry Anne’s gaze narrowed. She seemed torn between disappointment and wanting to make it clear she did not respond to blackmail.
‘It’s only fair to let there be one last market, don’t you think?’ Nel went on. ‘It would give stallholders a chance to tell people where else their products can be bought. After all, you’re not going to be living there by next month, are you? Probably not even a year next month. It wouldn’t make any difference to you.’
Kerry Anne sighed. ‘I guess not. I could talk to Pierce about it.’
Nel smiled sweetly. ‘Talk to’ and ‘tell’ were obviously interchangeable for Kerry Anne. ‘Do. And then, if he agrees with you, you can get in touch if you want me to take you to where my friend makes her products. You can’t call it a factory, exactly. I really think it would interest you.’
Kerry Anne fumbled in her Prada bag and produced a card. ‘Here. It has my cell phone number on it.’
Nel found a broken pencil and a crumpled receipt in her pocket and wrote on it. ‘And here’s my telephone number. Try and persuade Pierce, won’t you?’
‘Great, thanks.’ Kerry Anne looked into Nel’s basket, where the toothpaste and the shampoo were buried under packets of sanitary protection. ‘Do you still need all that stuff?’
Nel bridled. ‘Oh yes. I’m using it to insulate a chill-out room in my house, so I can practise my primal screaming.’ She smiled in a sickly way and moved on, not sure if the sarcasm was obvious, and aware that Kerry Anne might now think she was not only ancient, but a witch as well. The wretched woman probably thinks I’m about sixty. No wonder she said I had good skin. I wish I was a witch. I’d send her cellulite.
Exiting onto the street at roughly the same time as Kerry Anne, it was somewhat embarrassing for Nel to see Jake Demerand. Why on earth did he turn up everywhere she was? She couldn’t get away from the man. More annoying still was the fact that he saw both women. Supposing Kerry Anne told him what she’d said? He’d think she was a mad old crone, too.
‘Oh, are you two getting to know each other?’ he asked, sounding surprised but pleased.
‘Oh yeah, Nel’s going to take me to where someone makes beauty products in their own home. I love that idea. By the way, thank you for the other night, Jake. It was so fun.’
Jake acknowledged this gracefully, and Nel suddenly felt slightly sick.
‘Well, must get on,’ said Nel, not looking at Jake, ‘Lots to do.’
‘You will take me to your friend’s place?’ said Kerry Anne.
‘If you really want to. Give me a ring. Now I must go!’
At the bottom of the high street, she nearly bumped into Simon.
‘Nel! Hi! You look very—’
‘What?’ Nel snapped, feeling extra sensitive. ‘How do I look?’
‘Pretty, actually. You look pretty.’
Nel smiled warmly, patted his coat and moved on. ‘Sorry, must dash,’ she called as she went on down the High Street. ‘I must see Fleur. I’ll see you tonight.’
She reached her car, only ten minutes after its ticket expired, and realised Simon had never said she was pretty before. What on earth had come over him? Why was he saying it now?